


Monster

by rebecca_selene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Biting, Blood, F/M, Infidelity, Plot What Plot, Post-War, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebecca_selene/pseuds/rebecca_selene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had learned some self control since fifth year, but that didn’t make the anger any less potent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 [](http://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_kinkfest**](http://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com/) prompt [#363](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_kinkfest/34660.html?thread=1503588#t1503588) [(hardfucking, Harry/Hermione)](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_kinkfest/38398.html) submitted by [](http://sans-grace.livejournal.com/profile)[**sans_grace**](http://sans-grace.livejournal.com/).  
>  **Beta:** the lovely [](http://kellychambliss.livejournal.com/profile)[**kellychambliss**](http://kellychambliss.livejournal.com/) :-)

Harry fought to hold it all in. He forced a smile on his face as he watched his best friends bring a small bit of joy into the post-war months. Ignored the little glances they thought no one else saw, the tender caresses made almost unconsciously.

It was all well and good for them, Harry thought. They didn’t have blood on their hands or death in their dreams. They had purposes, goals, directions they had been forming their entire lives. All Harry had ever had was first the desire to escape his cousin’s bullying and then his molding into the Saviour of the World.

So with those deeds behind him, now what? He sat in Grimmauld Place and stewed in his own increasing uselessness and fury. He didn’t even have Ginny for comfort. She’d not come back after she’d protested his grip on her arm one night. It wasn’t even that tight, he had told her the next day, pointedly ignoring the purple bruise she shoved in his face. She had stomped off in a huff of flashing red hair and Harry had watched passively, not arsed enough to go after her.

One night he was sitting in the dark of the living room with a full glass of some alcohol or other in his hand when he heard the knock on the door. He didn’t rise to answer it, but Hermione came in anyway. In the dim glow of the hallway light, he could see snow on her thick hair. Harry put on his mask.

“You look tense,” she said, sitting down next to him. Harry snorted. No doubt she actually noticed him now that Ron was busy with the re-opening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and not constantly distracting her with roses and chocolates and whatever the fuck else people in love gave each other. She frowned, starting to look just as tense as he felt.

“What do you want to do?” she asked pointedly. Leave it to Hermione not to ask if anything was wrong. Somehow she always knew.

“Nothing,” Harry answered dully. There was a pause, and then he blurted, “I’m a monster.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, Harry, you are not a monster.”

Almost surprising even himself, his hand whipped out and wrapped around her wrist. She jumped at the ferocity in his gaze, but didn’t move away. “Yes, I am,” he said, his voice low. “Look at me!”

She did. His grip was tight over her pulse. He knew that his hair was a wild array of black strands, his chin stubbled with what he had not bothered to shave in a long while. He had looked at himself in the mirror quite a few times before he broke it. No doubt, with the shadows from the dark of the room across his features, Hermione would be just as disgusted, or worse, frightened.

But when she bent closer to him by just a fraction, showing just a hint that maybe, maybe she wouldn't turn him away, something broke in his carefully-placed walls. He attacked her, throwing her down on the sofa and snogging her senseless. Bruising the softness of her lips with vigour. He pulled away, once, his conscience poking its head through the haze of his lust, to give her a chance to back out like he expected her to.

She growled at him, fighting back. “Why are you stopping?” she demanded, her voice low and rough and sounding not at all like his best friend. “Or is that the all you can do, you useless excuse for a cock-brained man?”

Harry's eyes flashed at the challenge. He grabbed her throat and squeezed, her eyes bulging satisfactorily. But she didn't pull away. “Don't test me, Hermione,” he hissed, his fingers tightening.

Her own hands grasped his forearms as she concentrated on breathing shallowly, her head pinned against the back of the sofa. “Why not?” she countered with a smirk, blatantly ignoring the hand around her throat. “You won't do anything about it, anyway.”

With a growl Harry released Hermione's throat and grabbed her torso, rolling her down to the floor. Her body made a thud as it landed, and she hastily scrambled to face him, but he was already on her, pushing her into the rug. Their arms clashed wildly against each other, and somehow Harry grabbed the back of her head, nearly pulling out her hair as he tried to kiss her again. She arched herself into his body and pulled his head down to hers, but their movements were too frantic to hold still long enough for their lips to meet. Instead Harry dropped his mouth to her collarbone and bit down. He heard her gasp and the hand on his hair tightened. He ground his pelvis into her legs, desperately trying to gain some relief for his aching cock.

“Hermione,” he whispered, nipping at the skin of her neck. He couldn't help it. “I can't...Hermione...” He wanted to tell her that he couldn't hold back, couldn't escape the monster he was becoming. The words stuck in his throat at every movement she made.

There was a pause, as if she was struggling to catch her breath, but her voice was firm and demanding when she finally spoke. “I'm not a porcelain doll,” she said angrily, guiding his head back to look him in the eye. Harry's heart nearly stopped at her expression. Her face was twisted in contempt. “You couldn't hurt me if you tried!”

Harry’s last self-imposed barrier broke. His conscience fled, and every bit of the anger and frustration he had held back over the last few months took over. He stood in a single swift movement, dragging her with him, and threw her into the wall. Before she could recover, he ran his body into hers, the impact knocking the breath from both their bodies. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her sides. “By the time I'm done with you, you'll be screaming,” he promised. Her felt her breasts rise and fall against his chest as she panted.

Shockingly, she did not look at him in fear. Instead, she grinned up at him, a sinister twist to her lips that may have made someone else shake in terror but was nothing short of provocative for him. “Make me,” she spat out at him venomously.

He set about doing just that. His lips met hers frantically before moving back down to her shoulder. He pulled at her shirt mindlessly, tugging it down from the neckline until it ripped halfway. She growled at him and shoved him away, hard enough that he stumbled. She lifted the tattered remains of her shirt over her head and threw it to the side, her focus solely on Harry. He could see thin red marks across her shoulders where the edge of the shirt had dug in. The sight made his cock throb.

Hermione launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground and tearing at his belt. He pulled his shirt off while she was busy and grabbed her hair, his fingers disappearing in the thickness. Having released the belt and zip, she stood and pulled his jeans and boxers off in a single motion, so violently his arse lifted off the carpet. His cock sprang free and he groaned at the contact of cool air over his heated flesh. Hermione fumbled with her own trousers, but Harry had no patience left. He grabbed her hand and pulled her down onto him, their heads just barely missing banging into each other. He grabbed her hair again in an uncompromising grip and pushed her down his body, rising until he knelt in front of her, her face inches from his cock.

Harry could not have formed words of command if he tried, and anything as civilized as speaking was far from his mind. He growled and thrust his cock into Hermione’s face, keeping her head in place. She obliged him by opening her mouth and he thrust in, deep and desperate, causing her to choke and cough around his shaft. Too far gone in his pleasure to be concerned with anything else, he thrust carelessly in and out of her wet mouth. He saw her arse raised in the air and with his free hand slapped it, hard, the sound echoing in the room. She squealed around his cock and the vibration nearly made him come. He slapped her again and maintained a death grip on her arse cheek. She moaned and he felt his balls start to draw up.

Abruptly he released her arse and her hair, removing his cock from her mouth. She glanced up at him, a glazed look in her eyes. Spittle dripped from her swollen lips and trailed between them and the tip of his throbbing erection. He had never seen anything that so filled him with lust.

When he grabbed her shoulders and tossed her onto her back, Hermione gripped Harry’s forearms and pulled him down to her, meeting his lips in a slobbering kiss. He groaned at the feel of his cock against her belly, and at that moment Harry had had enough. With a wave of his hand, her trousers and knickers disappeared, revealing her already wet pussy.

He leaned up and shoved his cock into her mouth one more time before aligning himself between her legs and, with no more preparation, thrusting deep. She screamed, her body convulsing around him as he rutted into her. They moved across the rug with the violence of his thrusts, his knees and no doubt Hermione’s back burning against the rug until her shoulders hit the wall and they could move no more.

Harry pounded into her, her body nearly bent in half between him and the wall. When she dug her nails into his shoulder blades and drew blood, he cried out as he spilled inside her, his cock exploding and pulsing in the tight confines of her pussy. Hermione screamed again in his ear while Harry bit her shoulder to keep from grinding his teeth out.

They remained in that position while their bodies slowly recovered. After a much, much longer time than he thought possible, Harry’s shaking limbs began to ache from their awkward position, and looking down at Hermione’s scrunched form she no doubt felt the same way. He slowly eased himself from her body, and she removed her hands from his back. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Hermione smiled up at him.

Harry could only shake his head. “I didn’t know you could be like that, Hermione.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t hear you complaining,” she said. “Besides, I can take it,” she continued, her wince contradicting her words as she attempted to uncurl her body from the wall. Harry quickly leaned down to wrap an arm around her waist and led her to the sofa, where she lay herself down on the soft cushions. “I just have to find a way to convince Ron of it,” she said with a little laugh.

Harry groaned. “Hermione, I do not need to know about your sex life with Ron,” he said, realizing the hypocrisy of his words even as he spoke them. With the cooling of his body and his lust, reality began to sink in. “Ron…” he began to say with regret.

“…will never understand,” Hermione finished firmly.

“Oh.” Harry knew she was right. He had just…well, not _slept_ with, but mercilessly fucked his best friend’s girlfriend. But with much of the tension released from his body, he’d be damned if he could feel guilty over it. “What happens now?” he asked, with some trepidation.

Hermione grasped his hand and pulled him down onto her, so that his head rested between her still lace-covered breasts. She stroked his hair idly. “Well,” she said, adopting her lecture tone, “given how long you’d been holding back, and the lack of stressors you should have in your life now, in about...six months,” she calculated, “we’ll do this again.”

Harry blinked up at her, dislodging her hand from his hair. “Really?” he asked, incredulous.

She sighed. “Harry,” she began, “as enjoyable as tonight was, despite the pain,” she added at his doubtful expression, “sex isn’t a solution. I can’t come over here every time you get wound up and then go back home to Ron. It doesn’t work that way.” She cupped his chin in her hand. “You need help, Harry,” she said gently. “Now that you’re not liable to fly off the handle at any moment, please, please think about seeing a therapist. It will only do you good, I promise.”

Her eyes beseeched him to agree. Who was he to say no to the witch who let him fuck her into a wall just so he would think clearly? “All right, Hermione,” he relented. “I promise.”

She relaxed visibly, letting out a breath, and resumed petting his hair. He laid his head back down. “What about Ron?” he asked.

“He won’t ever know about tonight.” She tugged at his hair to lift his face back up to hers. “Ever,” she emphasized. When Harry nodded she released her grip on his head, and Harry realized that the pain in his scalp had travelled straight down to his cock. No doubt Hermione could feel it hardening against her thigh, but she didn’t say anything.

Harry sighed. He’d worry about concealing tonight from his best friend later. For now, though, he was content to enjoy the first semblance of relaxation he’d felt in years. At least, he would have been, had his cock decided to stop pulsing with every stroke of Hermione’s hand on his hair.

When Hermione shifted, Harry looked at her guiltily. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll behave.”

Instead of hearing “You’d better,” as he expected, Hermione just laughed. “You know,” she said mischievously, “the night’s not yet over.”

Harry smiled. He began to trace little patterns across her belly. “Then are you ready for a second go?”

“Third,” she corrected him.

“Third?” he asked, confused. “What happened to the second?”

“I came when you did.”

“And the first?”

“When you entered me.”

There was nothing for it. Harry thrust a little against her leg to relieve some of the ache in his groin. His fingers reached for her pussy, but she stopped him. “Wait,” she said, sitting up and untangling her limbs from his.

“What?” Harry asked, frustrated.

A feral grin spread across her face. She said, wickedly, “You have to catch me first.” And she ran.


End file.
